Face In The Mirror
by vega2
Summary: A wanted man, Michael hides from the police, the Foundation, and even himself.


Knight Rider Characters:   
Copyright Glen A Larson and Universal Studios   
Rated: PG-13   
  
  
Face In The Mirror  
By Vega  
  
  
Michael looked in the mirror and studied the face that stared back at him. Haggard and drawn, covered by a weeks worth of stubble, he looked into the eyes of a man who had nothing to live for anymore. In reality it wasn't even his, it belonged to Wilton Knight and his band of doctors and plastic surgeons. He should not even be standing here, contemplating his fate. He died four years ago in the Nevada desert, a bullet to the face. He shivered at the thought of waking up at night drenched in sweat as he relived that moment, staring down the barrel of Tanya Walker's gun, watching her left eye twitch just a split second before she pulled the trigger, the agony of the bullet blasting away his face, the total blackness as he sagged against his car and slid to the ground. He should have died then. That was what was meant to be. The rest of his life was an aberration.   
  
He gently touched his cheekbone and remembered his first thought as the bandages were removed. Wilton Knight stood at his beside, along with Devon Miles and the Foundation doctors and nurses, all waiting to see his reaction to a face he neither asked for nor wanted. Gone was the soft, almost boyish face. Now he saw high cheekbones, a strong chin and full lips. The only thing that still remained was his curly brown hair and blue eyes.   
  
"Damn it! I should have stayed dead!" he shouted at the mirror and drove his fist into the glass. He didn't even notice the blood dripping from his cut knuckles. If Wilton Knight had never interfered she would still be alive.  
  
He padded back to the small bedroom in his bare feet and flopped on the disheveled bed. He hadn't let the maids in to clean in over a week. The sheets were dingy and smelled of sweat, he had only eaten twice and the remnants of the take out boxes, still almost full, were scattered on the dresser, devoured nightly by the cockroaches.   
  
The dressing the EMT had applied at the scene, before he escaped, was now filthy and needed changing. By the throbbing in his shoulder he knew that infection had settled in. He had developed a fever days ago but it didn't matter. In fact it was further punishment for what he had done.  
  
If he had only acted a split second faster…but he didn't and she was dead and he was a wanted man, accused of her murder, hiding in the cesspools of the city because that was where he belonged.   
  
  
  
Bonnie slammed the front page of the newspaper down on Devon's desk, "This is all a lie!"   
  
Devon stared at the headline: Killer still on the loose. Below was a police artist's rendition of Michael, taken from the arresting officer, frighteningly accurate.   
  
Harrington Park: Nov 03…  
Local police are still no closer to apprehending the killer of Florida tourist Genevieve Duncan, 26, than they were six days ago.  
  
Despite the fact that he escaped while being transported to ST Ives Hospital with a bullet wound to the left shoulder, no one has reported seeing him in the vicinity. But authorities believe he is still in the area.   
  
Detective Green, a seventeen year veteran of the police force, stated he saw the suspect trying to flee the scene with the victim in his arms. When he refused to halt he was shot by an officer once in the left shoulder. The officer has been put on temporary paid leave pending an investigation into the shooting. However, other officers at the scene state that it was justifiable. "It's not often you catch someone in the act," Detective Green said, "which makes our loosing him all the more frustrating. But we'll find him. He's hurt and most likely alone. It's only a matter of time."  
  
The suspect is considered extremely dangerous. Described as Caucasian, six foot four, one hundred eighty pounds with blue eyes and curly brown hair. Anyone with information should contact Sgt. Reddenbaugh at Central Dispatch.   
  
"Of course it is," Devon looked up at her from his desk chair and saw the lines of fatigue on her face. It had been an ordeal that had affected everyone at the Foundation. Michael had become a part of everyone's lives. He and Kitt were the catalyst that made the Foundation work. Tempers were short, mundane tasks became monumental chores. Idle gossip flourished at every work station, permeating the basic structure of the Foundation.  
  
"What if they show up here looking for him?"  
  
"I have no doubt they will. That is why I have already developed a cover for him. Michael Knight is officially on assignment in Barcelona Spain. He left two days ago on flight 211 and arrived at Barcelona Airport and immediately checked in with the American Consulate. If the police make any inquires the airline and Consulate will verify everything."  
  
"How…?  
  
"The American Ambassador in Spain owes me a very large favor and I just turned it in."  
  
Bonnie looked down at the picture again. The face was Michael's, but not the expression. The face she saw belonged to a cruel killer.  
  
"Bonnie, sit, please."   
  
She pulled a guest chair over to the side of his desk, something she seldom did. This was Devon's office and she treated him as her boss here, down in the garage and out on the grounds they were true friends, closer even: like father and daughter, but here she showed him the respect his position deserved.  
  
"Why is he doing this?" she asked, lost and confused. "Why is he cutting us off?"  
  
"Because he's scared."  
  
"Of what? My God, Devon, we help people all the time who are wrongly accused."  
  
"He may feel that he is guilty." Devon sighed. "That we think he is guilty."  
  
"No, he can't think that. He knows we love him and trust him. He knows Kitt loves him and trusts him."  
  
"Does he?"  
  
Bonnie jerked her head up staring defiantly in Devon's face. "Kitt trusts Michael unequivocally. Michael knows that. Kitt is beside himself with worry."  
  
"I know he does, and I have no doubt that Kitt's trust is unquestionable but…" Devon turned his computer monitor so they could both see. "This," he said as he keyed in a series of commands, "is the tape Kitt took of the murder scene."  
  
  
A schematic of the park appeared on the tape and Kitt sped back toward the motor home. "I've seen it a hundred times." Bonnie snapped, her anger seething just below the surface. No one, especially Kitt, would ever think Michael capable of murder, no matter who it was.  
  
"I'm sure you have, but have you really seen it?"  
  
Bonnie looked up at him confused.  
  
"Watch and listen, very carefully." He directed.  
  
Bonnie's stomach dropped as she began watching the tape again.   
  
The tape showed Michael and Kitt slowly driving through an abandoned motor home park late at night. The only light came from the full moon above peeking in and out behind think storm clouds. "Where the hell is she?" came Michael's voice, filled with rage the likes Bonnie had not heard before.  
  
"You told her to wait in the motor home." Kitt responded calmly.   
  
"Damn it, I knew I couldn't trust her. Look, you check the perimeter of the park; I'll go in on foot. She could be hiding anywhere."  
  
"Shouldn't we stay together?"  
  
"We'll find her faster this way. I want her. She set me up, Kitt. Rasmussen thinks I've got the goods. And I'll bet a years salary that he thinks I've got them stashed somewhere."  
  
"But, Michael, I thought you loved her." Kitt asked, confused.  
  
"I do, Kitt, but it doesn't mean that I don't hate her for what she did to me. Keep in touch and keep an eye out for Rasmussen, if he finds her first she's dead."  
  
Bonnie glanced up at Devon, "I've seen all this before…"  
  
"Keep watching." Devon ordered.  
  
The tape continued to show Kitt's surveillance of the Mobile home. Suddenly the sound of approaching police sirens filled the air.  
  
"Michael…where are you?" Kitt called. There was no response. "Michael!"  
  
  
As he rounded the last turn he switched his high beams on. Michael stood motionless, a woman's limp body draped across his arms. He snapped his head up, staring into the headlights, his face frozen in shock.   
  
"Michael…no…!" She heard Kitt's gasp of disbelief. Bonnie froze. She saw the stunned look on Michael's face as he heard Kitt's words.   
  
"Get out of here," Michael raged, "the Foundation can't be involved."  
  
"…Why…?" Kitt asked, as he backed away. The sounds of the sirens cutting off his last words. Several gunshots were heard and Michael's comlink went dead.  
  
Bonnie looked up at Devon, shaken. Could Michael believe that Kitt thought he could actually kill her? "My God, Michael thinks Kitt…"  
  
Devon nodded, "It would appear so. Michael is on the run from both the police and the mistaken idea that Kitt thinks he killed the girl."  
  
A chill went down her spine, "Does Kitt know?"  
  
"No. I thought it would be too much of a burden. If and when the time comes I think it best that you tell him."  
  
Bonnie nodded, stunned into silence.  
  
  
Michael drifted into a restless sleep, remembering his first encounter with Gwen. How different his life would be if he hadn't stopped to help a lady with her bags…  
  
"Do you think Bonnie will be all right? You know how frightened she is of flying." Kitt's worried voice asked over the comlink as he made his way thorough the crowded airport terminal.  
  
Michael grinned and brushed back his hair as he laughed into his watch, "She'll be just fine, Kitt. I don't know who is more afraid, you or her."  
  
"Michael, I am a computer. I am therefore not susceptible to bouts of irrational fear. "Bonnie on the other hand…"  
  
Michael didn't see the woman rushing toward him, dragging three suitcases, until she ran right into him, nearly knocking him over. She cried out in pain and frustration as one of the bags hit her foot and burst open, strewing clothes and cosmetics across the floor.  
  
"Are you all right?" Michael asked, leaning down to help her load her suitcase back up. He felt a quickening in his stomach. She was possibly the most attractive woman he had ever met. She was nearly as tall as him in her black heeled boots. She wore a long black skirt and gray turtle necked sweater. Her straight blonde hair reached her waist. But it was her eyes that caught his attention most. They were deep blue, almost black.   
  
"I got caught in traffic, and now this." She stuffed her clothes back in the suitcase, exasperated. "I'm going to miss my flight."  
  
"Come on, I'll help you." He gathered up the bags. "Which gate?"  
  
"Twenty seven."  
  
Michael stopped, "Gate twenty seven? The 10:15 flight to Huston?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
He set the bags back down. "I'm afraid that flight's already left. I just put my friend on it a few minutes ago."  
  
"No! It's the last flight to Huston tonight. But it can't be." She checked her watch, "I still have an hour."  
  
Michael glanced over at her watch, "You forgot to set your watch ahead an hour. We're Pacific Standard time here."  
  
"Oh no, I did. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now what am I going to do?" She spun around slowly, looking at the hundreds of people milling about the terminal. "I checked out of my hotel, returned my rental car…I can't believe I did this."  
  
"Do you have any friends here in town?"  
  
"No. I'm here on business. Oh, what the hell." She reached down for her bags. "I'm going to catch a cab and find a room for the night. What's one more night? Thanks for the help anyway."  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"Starved. I was going to eat on the plane."  
  
"So am I. Why don't you join me for dinner and I'll take you to a nice hotel."  
  
Her smile faded and she stepped back, "Thanks but…"  
  
"That," Michael laughed, "didn't come out right. Dinner, only dinner, and I will leave you at the hotel lobby. Promise."  
  
"All right." She smiled.   
  
  
Michael awoke, startled. Why had it seemed so simple at the time? Had she set him up that early? Or did he just become the perfect pawn as time went on? He should have listened to Bonnie, she knew. He began to shiver as his fever climbed. He wrapped the filthy sheets around him. He needed a doctor, but there was nowhere he could go.  
  
  
"Wow, I'm impressed." Gwen said as she slid into the passenger seat. "I know they make some fancy cars here in LA but this…"  
  
"This," Michael said with a glint in his eye, "is one of a kind. I have a friend who loves to tinker with computers so…She tinkers, I get to play."  
  
Michael felt Kitt's response; a tiny jolt of electricity through the comlink.  
  
"Is that the same friend you took to the airport?"  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
"Then one day I will have to thank her."  
  
Michael raised a quizzical eyebrow.  
  
"If you hadn't taken her to the airport I never would have met you."  
  
  
She was right. If Bonnie hadn't gone to Huston for her computer seminar none of this would be happening. Or would it? If it was a set up, Gwen would have found another way to meet him, 'accidentally'.  
  
  
"Here's to us running into each other, literally." Gwen laughed as she clinked her wine glass against his. The candle on the table cast a soft glow over her face. Michael was now sure that he had not met a more beautiful woman. When she smiled Michael's stomach jumped.   
  
She checked her watch, "We've known each other one hour and fifty two minutes now and I still don't know your name."  
  
"Michael Knight," Michael smiled.  
  
"Michael Knight," she repeated, as if she were tasting the words. "I like it. It suits you. Michael Knight, my Knight in Shinning Armor. And I, kind Sir, am Genevieve Duncan. My friends call me Gwen."  
  
"Genevieve suits you too."   
  
  
And it did. She was the perfection of beauty. It was as if she were designed just for him, putting together everything that attracted him to a woman. He was hopelessly lost from her first smile. If he had only waited another couple of minutes at the gate to watch Bonnie's plane take off he never would have run into her. None of this would be happening. He reached up to touch his shoulder. He could feel the heat of the infection through the bloody bandage. He moaned in frustration.   
  
  
"What brought you to LA?" He asked, refilling her wine glass.  
  
"Business. Huston was my last stop before going home. Finally."  
  
"And where's that?"  
  
"Tampa Bay, Florida."  
  
"That explains the tan in November."  
  
"It's hard to keep up sometimes with all the traveling I do. Let's see, I have been to New York, Chicago, Baltimore, San Francisco, here and tomorrow, Huston. All in one week."  
  
"And I thought I traveled a lot. What kind of work keeps you on the road that much?"  
  
"Grommets."  
  
Michael nearly spilled his wine…"Grommets? You mean those little rubber washers that…?"  
  
"Uh ha." She grinned, her eyes sparkling, "Those little rubber washers. Only their not always little, there are some that weigh hundreds of pounds. I design grommets to fit the customer's needs. And you? What does a Knight In Shining Armor do for a living, besides rescuing damsels in distress at airports?"  
  
"I work for a Private Law Enforcement Agency."  
  
"A Private Detective?"  
  
"No. Not at all. We just help people who have fallen between the cracks, when the victims are too small or the bad guys are too big."  
  
"Sounds dangerous, but exciting."  
  
"It can be a little of both."  
  
  
The phone rang on the bedside table. The effort to lean over and pick up the receiver was nearly too much and he had to wait for the nausea and ringing in his ears to subside enough for him to hear the voice on the other end.  
  
"…been six days," the desk clerk warned. "you want to stay another night you got to pay first."  
  
Michael felt for the money in his pants pocket. If he remembered right he had seventy two dollars left. The room was thirty. It would leave him with nearly nothing, and no way to get more. He couldn't use his credit card; they would trace him in a second.  
  
"Yea," he rasped. "two more days, the money will be under the door."  
  
"Two days." And the phone clicked dead.  
  
He closed his eyes, two more days, then what?  
  
  
  
Bonnie made her way back to the garage. Michael was out there, somewhere, alone and injured, afraid to face the one person that meant the most to him…Kitt. How could he believe that Kitt would even think…but she had just seen the video with her own eyes and there was no mistaking the confusion in Kitt's voice.  
  
They had to somehow find him, make him understand that they all believed in his innocence.   
  
Where would he go if he was alone and scared? The seediest parts of town, most likely. Where no one would ask questions, as long as he could pay the bill. And if he still had the bullet in his shoulder? The EMT's report said it entered just below his left shoulder, with no exit wound. But so far none of the hospitals or emergency clinics reported any gun shot victims fitting Michael's description.   
  
As she walked into the garage she felt a terrible weight on her shoulders. Could she keep what she knew from Kitt? Was Devon right not telling him?   
  
"Any news?" Kitt's scanner came to life, waiting.  
  
"Nothing. We still have no idea where he is."   
  
"I don't understand why he is doing this. Surely he knows we would protect him."  
  
"I don't think he wants to put us, or the Foundation in that position, Kitt. If he was arraigned for murder and bound over for trial, how would we explain his existence? He was created four years ago. Everything about him is a lie. The Foundation would come under any number of charges from a whole host of government agencies, not to mention that a body was stolen from the morgue and placed in Michael Long's coffin. Michael Knight is actually Michael Long? And what if the trial leaked out to the press? How would his family, his mother, take the news of his existence? There are a lot of reasons for Michael to stay hidden, I just wish he would let us know, somehow, that he was all right."  
  
"I understand the implications, Bonnie. But I still want him back."  
  
"We all do, Kitt."   
  
The driver's door opened automatically and she accepted the invitation with a sad smile. Sliding into the plush bucket seat, designed especially for Michael, she felt an overwhelming sense of despair. There was the terrible possibility that he would never return to them. That the last memory she would have of him was a quick kiss on the cheek as she boarded the plane. How different would things be if she hadn't asked him to take her to the airport? "Have you had any luck tracing his comlink signature?"  
  
"No. It appears that he deliberately turned it off. I don't understand why. He knows we are the only ones who can monitor it. The police could never pick it up unless they had the exact frequency."  
  
"Maybe in the heat of the moment he forgot that." But that was not the real reason, Bonnie thought to herself, the real reason would break Kitt's heart.  
  
  
  
Michael fished the money out of his pants pocket with his right hand. He had guessed wrong, he only had sixty- eight dollars. That left him with eight dollars to live on. He had two days and eight dollars. After that… The maid would be there any minute. He closed his eyes, just for a second. He was so tired…How could everything go so wrong so quickly…?   
  
  
"This is not something I do very often," Gwen whispered as she unlocked the door to her hotel room, "in fact I have never done this before."  
  
Michael carried her bags into the small, but clean room, and turned to give her a quick goodbye kiss.  
  
"Then," he said softly, "this is not the time to start. I promised I would only get you the room, I don't expect anything in return."  
  
"I know you don't," she replied, her voice just as soft, "that's why I can't let you go. I feel as if I have known you all my life, and this seems the most natural and right thing to do." She gently pushed the door closed behind him and slid his leather jacket off. "If I let you walk away now I'll never forgive myself."  
  
Michael leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, tasting their sweetness. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met." He breathed. "I can't let you go either."  
  
  
Michael heard the insistent pounding on the door. He was no longer laying beside Gwen, smelling her sweet perfume, caressing her soft shoulders…  
  
"Hey, you said the money would be waiting here under the door." A woman's harsh voice called. "Hey! You in there?"  
  
Michael looked around, panicked, the money still clasped in his hand. If she saw him here like this… he was too weak to even make it into the bathroom to hide, he heard the key in the door and the woman's surprised gasp.   
  
  
  
"I wish I didn't have to go." Gwen said sadly, as they stood at the entrance to the jet way. "Last night was the most perfect night of my life."  
  
"Mine too." Michael smiled softly.   
  
"I'll be back in three days, if the invitation is still good."  
  
"The invitation will always be good. I know this perfect little bungalow nestled…never mind," he teased, "I'll keep you guessing. All the more reason for you to come back."  
  
"The only reason I need to come back is you, Michael Knight."  
  
Michael pulled her tightly against him, "I'll miss you." He whispered, not wanting to let her go.  
  
She pulled away reluctantly and began hunting in her overnight bag for something. "Here, a present for you."  
  
He accepted the small gold box with a perfectly tied gold ribbon, "What's this?"  
  
"Open it," she grinned, "It's just something to remember me by."  
  
He pulled the paper off and began laughing at the box of tiny grommets in his hand.  
  
  
  
  
"What the hell's going on here?" Michael heard the angry voice through a haze. "If you're on the run I don't want you around here."  
  
Michael forced his eyes open. The image of the clerk wavered before his blurry vision as he leaned over him, his breath stinking of stale beer and garlic. "I don't want any trouble around here. I'll give you fifteen minutes to get out then I'm calling the cops."  
  
"I've got money for two more nights." Michael weakly shoved the money into the clerks hand.  
  
"Sixty bucks," the clerk counted, "that'll just about cover the broken mirror and bloody sheets. Hell, I can't clean these things, they got to be thrown out. Now, you got fifteen minutes to clear out."  
  
Michael squeezed his eyes shut against the rising pain in his shoulder. He didn't have the strength to walk across the room, let alone out the door and down the steep flight of steps leading to the alleyway. He couldn't remember how he made it up the stairs…  
  
  
The sound of the siren echoed in his ears, mixed with the excited voice of the young EMT relaying medical jargon as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. Michael took a deep breath and tried to analyze the situation. He had collapsed when the bullet tore into his shoulder, unable to fight off the police as they swarmed over him, convinced he had broken Gwen's neck. The thought made him shudder and the EKG and blood pressure monitor beeped in alarm. He couldn't do anything to fight them as they loaded him onto the gurney and lifted him into the ambulance.  
  
He couldn't let this happen. It didn't matter that he was innocent. Gwen was dead, and he had failed to protect her. But he would not bring the Foundation down with him. He would die before he betrayed them. The ambulance slowed to a crawl. The driver cursed at the car that deliberately pulled in front of them and slowed down. Just a gentle reminder, that the ambulance was in his territory, governed by the laws of the gangs and the homeless.  
  
Michael seized the opportunity and elbowed the young EMT in the stomach. Scared, more than hurt, the EMT huddled in a corner making no attempt to stop Michael from ripping out the IV and stripping off monitor wires then jumping out the back door.  
  
He scrambled behind a parked car and waited. Police would be swarming the area in minutes. He painfully removed his jacket and threw it over his injured shoulder, hiding his blood soaked shirt. He had to find shelter, somewhere to hide…  
  
He made his way among the gangs and the homeless. Staggering from store front to store front he elicited little interest. They saw his type every night. Homeless, lost. In just a few short hours he had become one of the dredges of society.  
  
"Thirty bucks a night," the clerk said, not even bothering to look up from his ten inch black and white television screen sitting on the desk as Michael staggered into the seedy motel. Michael counted out one hundred fifty dollars and handed it to the clerk, panicking when he realized his fingers were stained with blood. The clerk didn't notice, too preoccupied with his TV show, he simply shoved the guest register over for Michael to sign and handed him a key. "206. Top of the stairs to the right."  
  
  
"Michael, I don't understand," Kitt had remained quiet for as long as he could as they maneuvered easily through the airport traffic and headed back to the Foundation, "you just met the woman, how can you have such strong feelings for her?"  
  
"I don't know, Kitt, I feel like I've known her all my life. I don't have to play games, I can be myself."  
  
"But you said you loved Bonnie too. Can you love them both?"  
  
"There are all kinds of love, Kitt. I love Bonnie in a different way then I love Gwen…"  
  
"I love Bonnie too. I don't want to see her hurt. She…"  
  
  
  
Michael heard voices whispering around him. He tried to listen, tried to understand but their words made no sense. He felt confused, frightened. If the police found him he would be taken to a prison hospital. His true identity would be exposed. The Foundation would be held accountable. He couldn't let that happen. And above all, he couldn't face Kitt yet. He lashed out in a feeble attempt to get away but he was no match for the strong arms that lifted him off the bed and carried him out into the pouring rain. He heard sirens in the distance, confusing him more. He was roughly carried down the steps and tied to a makeshift litter. Who was he with if it wasn't the police? He drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of being carried through endless dark alleyways, the walls glistening in the light from errant headlights, dark figures at his side whispering orders to each other that he didn't understand. Each step they took brought new pain to his shoulder until he couldn't stand anymore and everything around him faded to black.  
  
  
  
  
"We have our first sighting." Devon handed Bonnie the police report that had been filed moments ago. Bonnie read the report anxiously: Male Caucasian, early thirties, 6'4, 180 pounds, curly brown hair, last seen at the Eclipse Inn on Davenport Street. Suspect appeared to be severely injured, possible gun shot wound to the left shoulder."  
  
Bonnie looked up at Devon, the color drawn from her face. "That's him. It has to be. Where is he?"  
  
"Hotel clerk said he just vanished into thin air. Told him he was calling the authorities and when he got back the room was empty. Completely empty."  
  
Bonnie returned to the report. "All the bed linen was taken? Why?"  
  
"I suspect so the police couldn't use the bloody linen to identify Michael's DNA."  
  
"If Michael is that badly injured he couldn't possibly do all that himself."  
  
"Indeed. The room was also wiped down with disinfectant. There's not a trace of Michael left behind."  
  
"For the Police maybe, but not for Kitt."  
  
"My thoughts exactly. In fact I have rented that very room for the next two weeks, with the caveat that nothing be touched by their so called maid service or the clerk."  
  
Bonnie let the report fall to her lap, why hadn't she followed her instincts? She knew something was terribly wrong…  
  
  
  
"Michael, aren't you moving a little too fast?" Bonnie asked, as she stood up from beneath Kitt's hood, "I mean, you've only known this woman for twenty four hours and your acting like you're going to marry her."  
  
"Jealous?" Michael grinned.  
  
Bonnie closed the hood and glared at him through the windshield, "No, I am not jealous. What do I have to be jealous about? I'll be glad when someone finally snares you, it'll keep you from hitting on me all the time."  
  
"Then what is it?" Michael coaxed.  
  
"It's just that it's happening too fast. You don't know anything about her. She could be a serial killer for all you know."  
  
Michael snorted, "What, is she killing her victims with grommets?"   
  
"I'm trying to be serious, Michael. You met this woman at the airport, you take her to a hotel room and now you're madly in love…"  
  
Michael's smile disappeared. "It wasn't like that."  
  
"It wasn't?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Then how was it?"  
  
"Bonnie, you weren't there. You didn't meet her, talk to her. I can't explain it. It just happened."  
  
"Well, you've got three days before she gets back, I'll have Kitt run a…"  
  
Michael leaped out of the car, forcing his anger back, "No! I don't want you running checks on her like a common criminal. If you can't accept the fact that I may have found the one person who could make me happy for the rest of my life then…" He raised his arms in frustration and headed out the garage door. "…tell me when Kitt's ready for his shakedown. I'll be around." And he disappeared out the door, leaving Bonnie and Kitt stunned.  
  
"Bonnie, I have never seen Michael act this way."  
  
"I know."  
  
"What are we going to do?"  
  
Bonnie stared at the still open door, "Follow our instincts. Kitt, I want to know everything there is to know about Genevieve Duncan," Bonnie ordered, frustrated, "everything."  
  
"But, Bonnie, I feel uncomfortable going behind Michael's back." Kitt protested as Bonnie slid behind the wheel.   
  
"Sometimes," Bonnie reflected, "we can't see the forest for the trees. Michael is so head over heels in love with her that I don't think he can see anything else."  
  
"And if you're wrong?"  
  
"Then I'll be embarrassed. But I won't apologize for being concerned. Something's just not right, Kitt, I can't put my finger on it, but…"  
  
"Woman's intuition?"  
  
Bonnie nodded, watching the information begin to scroll down the monitor. "Something like that."  
  
  
What she saw didn't elevate her apprehension, and yet there was nothing that was out right damning. Genevieve Duncan was expelled in her sophomore year at Wellman College for cheating on an exam. She held a dozen or more jobs since then, two of which, she was fired for cause. No details… Six months ago she was hired by Atkinson Inc. For years they manufactured grommets for any and all jobs. Five years ago they began making Hyperbolic Seals for Medical use and within the last two years worked almost exclusively with NASA. They had all but fazed out their grommet production.  
  
"Why," Bonnie asked, "would they send Genevieve Duncan on a cross country selling trip if they were fazing out the product?"  
  
"Good question."  
  
  
"No esté asustado, usted son seguro aquí."   
  
Michael climbed up through the layers of unconsciousness, reaching for the voice he had been hearing for such a long time now. It was a woman's voice, speaking words he didn't understand, calling for him to answer. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to rejoin the living. So much had happened, so much pain, physical and emotional. Gwen was dead. He held her in his arms, stared into her sightless eyes. She had loved him, despite everything, she had loved him. And, oh God, how he had loved her. And then Kitt's betrayal: the sound of his voice when he saw Gwen's lifeless body in his arms. The shock that Kitt could think him capable of murdering anyone…especially Gwen…he didn't want to live with that thought. Too tired to care he slipped away again.  
  
  
Devon handed Bonnie the door key he had acquired downstairs. She opened the door and was immediately repulsed by the filthy room. The stench of stale sweat made her stomach lurch. She hoped to God that Michael had not been here. How desperate was he if in fact he had stayed here for six days, alone and injured. She pushed back the thoughts and entered the room, trying not to breathe too deeply.  
  
"Good God, Michael," Devon breathed, "why?  
  
"The police were right," Bonnie said as she slowly walked through the room, wearing a comlink similar to Michael's, "someone did a through job cleaning up." She moved her arm over every surface in the room, paying close attention to door knobs and door sills, dresser knobs and the lamp switch beneath the tattered lamp shade on the bed side table. She moved on to the bed making sure she covered the entire surface of the soiled mattress.  
  
"Stop right there." Kitt ordered. She stared at the soiled mattress then noticed the small drop of blood that must have leaked through the sheets.  
  
"Kitt…?" She asked anxiously, praying she would not hear the answer she knew she would get.  
  
"It's a perfect match. It's Michael's."  
  
Bonnie leaned back against Devon for support. Devon too found it hard to accept that Michael found it necessary to hide in a place like this. They had become as close as father and son, and yet he felt so alienated that he chose to hide from everyone in a hell hole like this. He thought back on the tape and Kitt's reaction, and for a fleeting moment he felt contempt for the AI. That he could have had a moments doubt about Michael was reprehensible.  
  
"Can you tell anything else?" Devon asked.  
  
"His white blood cell count is very high. He's fighting a massive infection. I see no signs of antibiotics. Why is he doing this?" Kitt asked, his voice deep with anguish.  
  
"I would suspect, given his present condition, that he is experiencing a certain amount of delirium." Devon answered, knowing it was not the entire truth, toying with the idea of telling Kitt exactly why Michael felt driven to hide like this, but he controlled his anger; it would do no one any good to hurt Kitt further at the moment, he would be told the true reason soon enough. "What ever made him run in the first place has now grown experientially. He is probably afraid of everyone he meets."  
  
Bonnie couldn't stand another second in the filthy room and rushed to the front door gulping down the fresh air, trying not to be sick.  
  
"We have to find him." She gasped.  
  
"He had help from some one. He couldn't have done this on his own." Devon stepped out of the room into the light drizzle. The first storm had moved through the area last night, the second one, promising to be stronger, was due in by nightfall.  
  
"What do we do now?" Bonnie looked down the steep iron stairs, slippery from the rain. It would have taken more than one person to get Michael down these stairs.   
  
"Perhaps we should have a heart to heart talk with the clerk." Devon began walking down the stairs. "There maybe something that he failed to mention to the police."   
  
  
  
Michael forced his heavy eyelids open, looking around, confused and scared. Nothing looked familiar. He didn't know if he was awake or dreaming. Nothing made sense anymore.   
  
"Mi dios usted es despierto, en el último!" An old woman rushed to his side, her white hair covered with a black lace shawl, her face wrinkled from age and hard work. The room was small, dark and overly hot. A stove stood in one corner, with a pot steaming on the back burner. A small window above the cot he laid on rattled from a fierce wind and rain storm outside. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged. The lack of extreme pain and the disjointed feeling told him he was under some type of pain medication. She felt his forehead and returned with a basin of water and a damp towel. "Esto ayudará a traer la fiebre abajo." She sponged down his face and chest. "No se asuste. Usted es seguro aquí." He couldn't understand her words, but her voice was soothing. He fought the urge to just melt away in the moment.   
  
But he had to know where he was, what had happened. He vaguely remembered someone in his hotel room, followed by a strange journey through dark, rain filled alleyways and deserted streets.   
  
"Where am I?" He whispered, the effort making him cough.  
  
"No, no. No hable. Excepto su strenght." She put her old weather worn fingers to his lips.  
"Julio estará aquí pronto."   
  
Juilo. He knew that name from somewhere, but his mind couldn't focus.   
  
She continued sponging him down, speaking softly, her words becoming hypnotic. The cool cloth felt good on his hot skin. He couldn't fight…  
  
  
"This is too beautiful for words," Gwen laughed, as the warm air buffeted her long blonde hair. Michael had removed the T-Tops and rolled down the windows as they drove down Pacific Coast Highway.  
  
Michael smiled back. Too beautiful for words was the perfect description for Genevieve Duncan. She had returned as promised and they were heading for a small bungalow owned by the Foundation. Despite Bonnie's reluctance to accept Gwen in his life, Devon acquiesced and gave him the key for the weekend.  
  
"I think," he shouted over the wind, "that it's time I introduced you to my friend, my best friend in fact."  
  
"Are we going to meet him at the bungalow?"   
  
"No," Michael grinned, enjoying her confusion, "he's right here in fact."  
  
"Where?"   
  
"Kitt," Michael patted the gull wing steering wheel, "introduce yourself, Buddy."  
  
"Very well, Michael." Kitt said, but to Michael's surprise his voice sounded monotone. Normally he was thrilled to introduce himself. "I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. You may call me Kitt for easy reference."  
  
Gwen looked around the car looking for the source of the voice.  
  
"I am a state of the art computer with 1000 mega bites of memory and a one nano-second access time. I can also control every function of the car, when Michael allows…"  
  
"And," Michael jumped in, "He tends to gloat. I think she gets the idea, Pal."  
  
"You mean, I'm talking to a computer?" Gwen asked in astonishment.  
  
Michael nodded. "Actually," he laughed, "you are talking to my best friend. You love me, you love my computer."  
  
"Then," Gwen giggled, "I guess you are my best friend too, Kitt."  
  
  
"My best friend too…" The words rang hollow in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about her, dreaming about her. He tried to push her out of his mind, but she kept returning. Why hadn't he felt the immediate tension in the car at that moment? Why didn't he tune in on Kitt's misgivings like he had always done in the past? It was what kept them alive in so many life and death situations. He trusted Kitt's instincts without question. How could he have been so blind? He tossed and turned, trying to drive her away. The more he struggled the more his shoulder hurt. But it didn't matter. She was dead. He had killed her. Not with his bare hands, but with his blind love…  
  
  
  
  
"I think this is what heaven must be like." Gwen sighed as she nestled closer to Michael. The hottest part of the day was gone and they lay contented in the shade beneath the cliff that formed the small cove just beyond their private bungalow.  
  
Michael nodded. It was perfect, from the sound of the waves crashing over the rocks, to the feel of the salty mist on their faces. "If this isn't paradise," he whispered, drawing her hair back and kissing her gently on the back of her neck, "I don't know what is."  
  
"I wish" she sighed, "we could stay here like this forever."  
  
"Why can't we?" He pulled her closer, nestling his chin in her soft hair. "We can tell the bosses we quit. We'll become a couple of beach bums. Nothing to do but lay in the sun all day, watch the stars all night."  
  
"Sounds tempting, but…" she looked at her wristwatch.  
  
"I know." Michael sat up looking at his own watch. "You have an appointment at six. I thought you were leaving the grommets behind this trip."  
  
"It'll only take me a few minutes. And afterwards we can have a nice intimate dinner and…"  
  
"And…" He turned her chin toward him and gently kissed her lips. "Hasn't anyone told you it's a crime to mix business with pleasure?"  
  
She willingly folded under his weight, wrapping her arms around his neck, "Has anyone told you, Mr. Knight, that you are a hopeless romantic?"  
  
"Never," he whispered, "anyone as beautiful as…"  
  
His comlink beeped, "Michael?"  
  
He flopped back on the sand, laughing, because that was all he could do. Gwen collapsed over his chest, giggling uncontrollably.   
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Michael," was there just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "but Bonnie is calling."  
  
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "My competition?"  
  
He pulled her back into his arms, "Kitt, tell her I'll call her later."  
  
There was a long silence as if Kitt was surprised by the answer. "Very well, Michael" he finally answered, But…"  
  
"But what?"  
  
"Never mind. I'll tell Bonnie you are busy at the moment and you will call her later."  
  
"Thanks, Kitt." Michael cupped his right hand over the comlink… Was there something bothering Kitt that he wasn't saying? He dismissed it as an offshoot from Bonnie's jealousy. In time Bonnie would get to know Gwen and accept her into the family.  
  
Michael stood and pulled Gwen to her feet, "Me thinks" she laughed, "I have a fight on my hands to wrestle My Knight In Shinning Armor from the fair maiden Bonnie."  
  
  
"Come on Jefe, wake up, we got some old times to talk about." Michael heard a new voice, a man's heavily accented voice. He knew that voice, somewhere in his past. Curiosity got the best of him and his eyelids flickered open.  
  
Through a haze he saw a familiar face wavering over him. He searched his mind. He had met so many people...touched so many lives…   
  
"Hey, Jefe, long time, no see."   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut. What kind of nightmare was this? Where was he? He couldn't remember. He couldn't get his mind to think straight. Becky…April's niece. Two years ago. He had saved Julio and his girlfriend from the Conquerors, a rival gang in the barrio hundreds of miles from here.  
  
"Julio?"  
  
"Sí. One in the same. Hey, Jefe we got a lot of talking to do when you're up to it. You're just lucky my aunt worked at the Eclipse Inn. She recognized you right away. She called me, and well, I owed you big time man."  
  
"No…you owe me nothing." Michael whispered. "You did it all yourself."  
  
"Yea, sure. Look, you get some rest, when you feel stronger we'll talk."  
  
Michael grabbed Julio's arm with the strength he didn't know he had. "No one knows I'm here. No one."  
  
"Not even Kitt?"  
  
"…No one…" Michael breathed, the words tearing at his heart.  
  
  
  
"Fifty bucks."  
  
Devon reached across the desk and grabbed the clerk by the shirt, "You unconscionable lout," Devon raged, "what do you know about the man in 206?"  
  
"Fifty bucks." The clerk held his ground. "You wanna know what I know, it'll cost ya."  
  
Bonnie pried Devon's hands loose. "Pay him, Devon."  
  
Devon counted out the money and saw the clerks eyes widen at the money clip in his hand.  
  
"Don't even think it," Devon warned. "I have backup outside." On cue Kitt's doors opened and closed several times. "What do you know about the man in 206?" Devon demanded  
  
"Hey," the clerk raised his hands innocently, "I just gave the guy a room," He opened the hotel register and pointed to the scrawled name, "John Jones…That's all I know."  
  
"How long was he here?"  
  
"Six nights. He paid cash for six nights. I told him he had to pay for the seventh night if he wanted to stay."  
  
"And…?" Bonnie could barely control her disgust.  
  
"Come on, lady, I don't run a charity here. You pay you stay…You don't…" he shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"So you called the police on him?" Bonnie felt Devon's hand on her elbow, the only thing that kept her from vaulting over the counter and smashing his face in.  
  
"It was my civic duty. His face was plastered all over the front page. He was wanted for murder. I don't harbor fugitives here."  
  
"You harbor anyone who can pay your thirty dollars a night." Devon seethed. "How did he leave?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Devon slammed his fist on the desk, "You would have to be blind not to see who walked down those stairs." Devon pointed to the stairs right outside the front door. "How did he leave?"  
  
"A bunch of Mexicans from the barrio. They carried him away. He's probably dead by now anyway. He looked like shit the last time I saw him."  
  
"You had better hope," Devon warned as he grabbed Bonnie's arm and steered her towards the door, "that he survives."  
  
"Or what?" the clerk yelled as the door closed.  
  
Devon lowered himself into Kitt's passenger seat shaking with anger. Bonnie slid into the driver's seat as Kitt pulled away from the motel.  
  
"Why," Kitt asked, "would anyone from the barrio take Michael?"  
  
"I don't know, Kitt," Devon answered, his hands shaking with anger, "but we are going to find out. I want a list of everyone who works for the Eclipse Inn, and everyone who services it, laundry, pest control, maintenance, anyone who could have come in contact with Michael."  
  
"It may take some time."  
  
Devon looked at the seedy motels and the derelicts walking the streets. "Time is something we may not have. Do your best, Kitt. Someone must have seen something."  
  
  
  
"I couldn't believe it when I saw your picture on the front page." Julio pulled a kitchen chair up to the cot and sat down, "I knew it couldn't true."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure." Michael muttered. He still felt disjointed. While the pain in his shoulder was just a dull ache now, his left side felt plastered to the cot. He barely had the strength to lift his head, and when he did the old woman was beside him, imploring him with words he couldn't understand.   
  
"No, Jefe. That is not your style."  
  
"You don't know me."  
  
"I know you saved me and Terri. The Conquerors would have killed us if you weren't there."  
  
"That was two years ago. A lot can happen."  
  
"Si, a lot has happened. Terri and I are married and expecting our first child in three months. We no longer belong to the Vagadores. I work as a guidance councilor at the YMCA and Terri is a youth advocate for the court. We are both making a difference because of you."   
  
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, why was he making this harder than it should be? Gwen was dead because of him. He was as much to blame as the man who strangled her. He needed to be punished. Even Kitt knew it.  
  
Julio lifted the blanket over Michael's shoulders as he began to shiver. "You are safe here, for now. When you're stronger we can talk."  
  
The old woman was beside him, pushing Julio aside. She still spoke in a language he couldn't understand. She lifted his head and drizzled something sweet down his throat. Exhaustion and the drug pulled him back down. He saw Julio, the old woman and the room dissolve into blackness…  
  
  
  
  
"I told Phil I would meet him in Ashton Park on Colby Street. Do you know where that is, Kitt?"  
  
"Yes, ETA, seven minutes." Kitt answered, his voice devoid of all personality. Michael noticed the change and glanced at the voice box beneath the dash. Kitt had been silent since they left the bungalow. He decided he would have to have a heart to heart talk with him soon. Kitt would have to understand that his feelings for Gwen in no way diminished his feelings for him or Bonnie. Devon, Bonnie and Kitt were still his family, always would be. Gwen was just a new member.  
  
As promised, seven minutes later Michael pulled into the small parking area adjacent to the park. The park was nearly empty, only a few people strolled along the walkways winding through the Juniper and Pine trees. It would be dark soon and the air was growing colder as the sun hung low over the horizon.   
  
Michael uncurled himself from the bucket seat noticing a man sitting on one of the park benches. His face brightened as he saw Gwen step out of the car and he stood up waiting expectantly.  
  
"Hey kiddo, right on time," he called. Phil Rasmussen was a large man. At six feet and two hundred twenty pounds plus, he wore a light brown blazer and kaki pants.   
  
Michael followed Gwen over to the park bench. Rasmussen hugged her gently, "I owe you for this one, kiddo. And," he turned to Michael, "this must be the man who stole my best salesman right at the height of the season." His dark hair didn't match his graying eyebrows or the age wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.   
  
"Michael Knight," Michael offered. Rasmussen made a show of shaking his hand warmly but Michael was immediately on guard, the handshake was too aggressive. Rasmussen was sending him a clear message. Back off from his star salesman.  
  
"Michael," Gwen beamed, "saved me from my own stupidity. Can you believe I forgot to reset my watch?"  
  
"That's some car you've got there." Rasmussen said, looking over Michael's shoulder at the gleaming black Tans Am.  
  
"You wouldn't believe the inside." Gwen gushed, "It looks like the Space Shuttle."  
  
"Really," Rasmussen looked up at Michael, "I'll have to have a look. But," he turned back to Gwen, "another day." He lifted a briefcase to the bench and pulled out a bulging business size envelope.  
  
"You got the Samuels account?" Gwen nearly screamed in excitement.  
  
Rasmussen nodded, "Signed, sealed and almost delivered. This is too important to us to trust to the mail. This," he handed her the envelope, holding her hands for emphasis, "is the account that is going to take us over the top. You're the only one I trust with it."  
  
Gwen hugged it to her chest, "It'll be safe with me, Phil."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I can't believe you finally got the account." She turned to Michael, "This is a multi million dollar account. Phil's been working on it for months."  
  
Michael tried to look impressed, but Rasmussen had him feeling uneasy.  
  
"I thought we lost the account last week when Benhurst bid lower."   
  
"That, kiddo, was their big downfall." Rasmussen grinned, "I convinced Samuels that the only way Benhurst could bring in a lower bid was to use inferior products. They bought it."  
  
Gwen leaned over and kissed Rasmussen quickly on the cheek, "You are the best, Phil Rasmussen."  
  
"I know," he winked. "Now you take good care of that. I'd hold it myself, but I have to go out of the country for a few days. I'll be back at the home office sometime next week, You two enjoy the rest of your weekend."  
  
"We will." Gwen didn't notice that neither Michael nor Rasmussen made an attempt to shake hands.  
  
  
"I still can't believe it," Gwen cried, dropping into Kitt's passenger seat. "Phil actually pulled it off. But," her smiled suddenly faded as she stared down at the envelope, "where do I keep it so it's safe?"  
  
"Right here." Michael slipped it from her hand and tucked it beneath her seat. "Kitt will guard it with his life. Won't you, Pal?"  
  
"Of course, Michael." Kitt answered, his voice still monotone. But Michael couldn't fault Kitt on this one; he had the same feeling about Rasmussen. When Gwen headed back to Florida he would do some checking. There was something about Rasmussen that felt very wrong…  
  
  
Something warm touched Michael's lips and he snapped his eyes open. Julio had him propped up on the cot and the old woman held a spoon of warm soup to his lips.  
  
"No," he protested, "I'm not hungry."  
  
"Usted debe comer." The old woman insisted.  
  
"My Tia says you must eat." Julio translated. "She's right. You'll never get your strength back if you don't."  
  
Michael didn't have the strength to fight and took a few sips before Julio eased him back down on the cot.   
  
"Tia says your fever has come down, a little. But she says that the infection was very bad. You waited too long. And the bullet was very deep. She almost couldn't get it out. It will be awhile before you are strong enough to leave."  
  
Michael glanced down at his expertly wrapped shoulder.  
  
"When there was no doctor around there was always Tia"  
  
"Tell her thank you."  
  
The old woman nodded, pleased.  
  
"But I can't stay here. I've got too much trouble behind me. I don't want you and your aunt involved anymore."  
  
"You let us worry about that. Get some rest. Then you tell us everything. After that my Tia and I will decide if you stay."  
  
Michael nodded and gave into the overwhelming desire to sleep. He would stay one more night. Tomorrow...  
  
  
  
"Kitt, did you find an address for Rasmussen?" Devon asked as he walked into the garage. It was barely six A.M., and for the third morning in a row he was ready to follow another lead, any lead. The non stop pace was taking a toll on the old man, but there was no way he could simply sit behind his desk and wait for word.  
  
"Yes, Devon. He owns a house in Santa Rita."  
  
"How long will it take us to get there?"  
  
"Four hours. But the police already questioned him, what do you expect to find?"  
  
"I don't know, Kitt, but we have to do something, even if it is only grasping at straws." He turned to Bonnie, who was sipping at her second cup of coffee already. "I'm sorry my dear, but I think it best you stay here in case there is word about Michael."  
  
Bonnie nodded, disappointed, but understanding. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."  
  
"I'll be ready in fifteen minutes, Kitt."  
  
  
  
  
Michael awoke to find the small house empty. Julio and his Tia were no where to be seen. The window above his bed was still pelted by heavy rain drops. As much as he wanted to stay in the comfort of the warm house and Tia's gentle care he knew he couldn't. He was a wanted man. If the police found him here they would be in arrested for harboring a fugitive.  
  
Where he would head, he had no idea. Somewhere where he could rest and regain his strength. He already felt stronger than he did yesterday. His face still felt fever hot, but not as bad as it did while he lay in the filth of the motel room.  
  
He took a deep breath. This nightmare had to end…soon. He suddenly thought of Kitt. What was Kitt going through right now? Frantically searching for him, he supposed. Even if he thought he was responsible for strangling Gwen. They would all be looking for him. Devon, Bonnie…Confused and worried. But he couldn't involve them in this. He was responsible. He had made the mistakes, and now too many people were being drawn into it, too many innocent people, like Julio and his aunt.  
  
Pain held his entire left side in a vice grip so strong that he could barely move. He took another deep breath and struggled to sit up. The pain and the exertion were nearly too much and he held on to the cot as the room spun wildly. He didn't have much time. Julio could return at any minute. Not until his feet were on the floor did he realize that his shoes and socks were gone as well as his shirt. He didn't know where they were and didn't have the strength to struggle into them even if he did. He stayed there for a moment, panting, trying to will his body to stop shaking. He pushed himself off the cot, took one step, and collapsed. He never felt himself hit the floor…  
  
  
  
Michael smiled as Gwen looked toward Kitt for the hundredth time that night. Sitting at an outdoor café, they ordered a light meal and watched the sun set. Even in warm Southern California, the nights came early and cool in November and they needed the warmth of their jackets and the propane heaters that took the chill off each table.  
  
"Relax," Michael chided, "there is no safer place in the world than inside Kitt. Your envelope is safe."  
  
Gwen blushed, "I'm sorry. It's just that it means so much to us. This could make us a Fortune Five Hundred company."  
  
"Sounds great. But," he raised his wine glass to her, "I thought this was our weekend. I promised not to think about Foundation business and you promised not to think about grommets."  
  
"I know," she laughed. "Guilty as charged." She reached across the small table and squeezed his hand, "No more thoughts about grommets."  
  
"Good. Now, finish up because I have something to show you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You'll see." He promised with a sly wink. But even as he made the promise he couldn't shake the feeling that Phil Rasmussen was bad news…  
  
  
  
Devon rushed into his office, startling Bonnie. "The man Michael thinks is Phil Rasmussen is a fake. Kitt and I just met the real Rasmussen. He has been living in Santa Rita since he was laid off at Atkinson. It appears that Michael was set up by both Miss Duncan and Rasmussen, what ever his real name is."  
  
"Do we tell the police?"  
  
"No, it doesn't help Michael. Yet. He is still the only suspect. But it gives us something to work on."  
  
"I'll start trying to put a face to a name."  
  
Devon laid a cautionary hand on her shoulder, "Tread lightly my dear, I have a feeling that we are looking for a very dangerous, well connected man. If he finds you hacking into any of his systems…"  
  
"He won't. I'll use every back door there is."  
  
"Good, I'll leave you to your task. Call me if…when you find something."  
  
  
  
"You're a damn fool, Julio."  
  
Michael heard voices raised in anger. Some in English, some in Spanish. He remembered trying to get to the door but nothing else. Rough hands dropped him back on the cot and he heard a cry of protest from Tia.  
  
"The police are swarming around like flies out there."  
  
"What are you going to do if they find him here?" Another voice asked. "Think of Terry, the baby. What is she going to do if you and Tia are locked behind bars?"  
  
There was a chorus of yeses.   
  
"He saved my life, and Terry's." Julio protested. "I was wanted for murder and he helped me. I owe him."  
  
Michael could feel Tia unwrapping the dressing on his shoulder. Why didn't she just leave him alone? They were right. He shouldn't be here. He tried to push her away but there was no strength left in his body.  
  
"You owe Terry and the baby now. Let us take him. We'll hide him. I promise."  
  
"No. He stays here."  
  
"They're right…" Michael gasped, his voice so weak only Tia heard.  
  
Tia laid a gentle hand over his mouth, "Usted va en ninguna parte. Usted están permaneciendo con Julio y mí."   
  
"Tia is right." Julio's voice rose above all the others. He stays here with us. If you want to help you can stay. If you don't we'll understand. But he stays."  
  
Michael didn't hear anyone leave.  
  
  
  
"Give me five minutes to freshen up." Gwen leaned over and kissed him as she passed by on her way to the Ladies Room.  
  
He watched her disappear down the hallway and sat back, more contented than he had been in a very long time. If not for the nagging question about Rasmussen, everything would be perfect. Rasmussen, and Kitt's surprising reaction to Gwen. He still had to sit down and have a long talk with him.  
  
"Michael…?" Kitt's tentative voice asked from the comlink.  
  
"Yea, Kitt?" He nonchalantly propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his left hand.  
  
"We have to talk."  
  
"I know. About a lot of things. But later."  
  
"No, Michael," Kitt's voice had a strange timber to it. "We must talk now."  
  
"All right, Kitt. What's on your mind?"  
  
"Michael, I…I was curious about the envelope Mr. Rasmussen gave Miss Duncan and I scanned it."  
  
"You had no right," Michael snapped. "I know you're having trouble accepting the fact that I have a new relationship…but…"  
  
"Michael, it did not contain a contract of any kind. It was classified NASA documents."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It is specs for a new Space Shuttle design. If these fall into the wrong hands it could have a devastating effect on the space program."  
  
"How the hell did Rasmussen get his hands on classified documents?"  
  
"I have no idea at this point, Michael."  
  
Michael looked toward the hallway. Gwen would be returning any minute now. What was he going to say to her?"  
  
"All right, Kitt. Keep this under your hat for now until I've had a chance to talk to Gwen."  
  
"Do you think she's involved?"  
  
"No!" Michael realized his response was too loud, too quick. Was there the smallest of doubt in his mind?  
  
He looked up to see Gwen walking toward him. His stomach dropped. What if she was?  
  
"I'm ready." She wound her arms around his neck, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "I can't wait to see your surprise. If it's anything like the bungalow."  
  
"It is," he said, but his heart was no longer in it. "It's getting late, I'll have to show you it another day."  
  
"What? You tease." She swatted him across the shoulder, "and how long do I have to wait?"  
  
"Tomorrow, maybe."  
  
  
  
  
"Tia thinks you are foolish and stubborn," Julio said as he pulled a chair up to the cot. "But I think you're just plain stupid. Where did you think you were going? You didn't even have shoes on, man. The cops would have spotted you in a minute."  
  
Michael turned his face away from Julio's berating. How could he explain to him that all this was his fault? That no one would be in this position if he had used his brain instead of his heart.   
  
"You opened up the wound again," Julio continued, "you probably set back your recovery by a week. That's another week we got to hide you."  
  
"No it's not!" Michael snapped his head back, looking up at Julio. "I don't want you or your family involved anymore. I heard your friends, they know a place to take me."  
  
"No way, Jefe. We owe you."  
  
"You don't owe my anything."  
  
"You saved me from the Conquerors and the cops, they both thought I killed Hector. But you set it square with the Conquerors and got me straight with the cops."  
  
"I did it because I needed you. I needed your bone marrow for Becky. That was the only reason I was there. Don't paint me as a hero. I'm not."  
  
Julio shrugged, "Then why did you come back?"  
  
The question caught Michael by surprise.  
  
"When they released me from the hospital Becky was doing fine. You didn't need to protect me anyone. But you knew I would just go back to the Vagadores, that everything would be the same." Julio pulled a worn business card from his shirt pocket. "With this," he said, "you saved my life twice."  
  
Michael took the card with trembling fingers. It was the Foundation's business card and when he flipped it over he saw his handwriting.   
  
"Father Juan Alvereze," Julio smiled. "You said if we left the barrio he would help us."  
  
Michael sighed, "I gave you a name Julio, nothing more. It was you who had the courage to leave the barrio and make a better life for yourself. You and Terry and your Tia are the heroes."  
  
Julio dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "You know," he said, holding up a newspaper for Michael to see, "you made the headlines again today."  
  
The sketch artist's rendition of him was plastered across the front page. "Killer still on the loose." It screamed.   
  
"Police are still no closer in apprehending the brutal killer of young tourist Genevieve Duncan than they were nine days ago." Julio read. "They believe he was hold up in the Eclipse Inn motel for six days. Danny Bergman, desk clerk at the Eclipse Inn told police that the man who staid in room 206 was at death's door. "I knew as soon as I saw him that he was the killer." Mr. Bergman recounted, "He was hurt, really bad and he looked like a trapped animal. I don't know how he managed to escape." Police believe the killer is still in the area, too weak to travel."  
  
Julio set the paper down, "The Michael Knight I know is not a brutal killer."  
  
Michael squeezed his eyes shut trying to stem the flow of feelings that were ready to explode. "I didn't kill her," he whispered, "but I didn't save her."   
  
Julio leaned closer, "What happened, Jefe?"   
  
Michael looked up at the window above his bed and watched the drops of rain run down the glass. "I trusted her…"   
  
  
  
"Michael…is something wrong?" Gwen broke the uncomfortable silence. Michael had been lost in thought trying to find an easy way to broach the question that weighed heavy on his mind and his heart. Did she know about the fake documents in the envelope or was she just an innocent dupe? He prayed for the latter.  
  
"No, I've just got something on my mind."  
  
"It must be important. You've hardly said a word since we left the restaurant. Can I help?"  
  
Michael let out a long slow breath; the only way to find out was to ask. "What do you know about Rasmussen?"  
  
"Phil?" she asked, surprised. "Hey, you don't have to worry about Phil. I know he comes off pretty strong, but he really is a sweetheart."  
  
"How long have you known him?"  
  
She shrugged, "A couple of years. He came in just after I was hired. Why?"  
  
"What do you know about the contract he was negotiating?"  
  
"He's been working on it for months. Don't let this get any further, but it is a contract with NASA. Do you know what that means?" She could hardly contain her enthusiasm. "We had to agree to install new equipment that could handle the job, but it's worth it."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Michael, what are you looking for? Phil may have cut a few corners to get the contract, but that's just business. And why does it concern you?"  
  
"It concerns me because it concerns you. Gwen, while we were having dinner back there…" Did he really want to ask this question? He watched her face carefully as he continued. "Kitt was bored and he scanned the envelope."  
  
Did Michael hear a slight gasp? Was there just a hint of her hands tightening?  
  
"He did?" There was an uncomfortable pause, but she recovered quickly. "Well," she dismissed it with a smile "since the contracts have already been signed, I guess it's not a big deal. But Kitt," she patted the dash, "you have to learn to control your curiosity."  
  
Michael stepped in quickly, given Kitt's mindset. "Kitt doesn't always play by the rules, but he means well."  
  
"I know." She smiled, "And remember," she slipped her hand into his, "we're not supposed to be worried about work."  
  
"All right," he conceded, not wanting to deal with it at the moment, "you win."   
  
  
  
  
She won, he thought sadly, but in the end she lost. What would have happened if he had forced the issue right there and then? Would she still be alive? Had he pushed away what he knew to be true just because he didn't want to be hurt?  
  
  
"Jefe," Julio grabbed Michael's hand, squeezing it tightly; "Your only crime was that you opened your heart to the wrong woman."  
  
"No," Michael said bitterly, "my crime was not following my instincts. I knew, in my heart I knew, but I ignored all the warnings. And she's dead."  
  
"And how will your death make amends?"  
  
Michael whipped his head toward the door, recognizing the voice immediately.  
  
Devon Miles stood in the open doorway, light from the house spilling out into the dark street. "I am loathe to think what you have put yourself through in the mistaken idea that this was all your fault."  
  
Julio rushed over and slammed the door closed behind him. There were still police out there hunting for Michael.  
  
Michael looked over at Julio, accusation in his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jefe, you almost died two nights ago. I didn't know how to help you anymore."  
  
"You did the right thing, Julio," Devon patted him on the shoulder, "Michael will realize that soon."  
  
"I don't want you or the Foundation involved," Michael snapped. "I brought this on myself; I'll take care of it myself."  
  
"By involving innocents like Julio and his aunt?"  
  
"I didn't ask for their help." Michael barked.  
  
Devon reared back, alarmed and angry at Michael's condition and state of mind. He was at least ten pounds lighter then the last time he saw him, and his face flushed from the high fever. The bandage around his left shoulder was neat and clean, but his chest heaved at the simple exertion of talking. He turned to Julio, "Might I have some time alone with Michael, please?"  
  
"Sure. I needed to run some errands anyway. If my Tia comes back tell her who you are. She doesn't speak English but she understands."  
  
"Thank you, Julio." Devon waited until Julio closed the door behind him before he pulled a chair up to Michael's bed.  
  
"Go away, Devon, please." Michael sighed, his eyes fever bright. "Nothing you say will change anything."  
  
"Michael, it hurts me deeply that you felt you had to do this on your own. I must admit, I am at a loss."  
  
"There was nothing you could do, nothing anyone could do. I brought this all on by myself. And I'll be damned if I'll bring the Foundation down with me."  
  
"Are you done?" Devon asked coldly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you done wallowing in self pity?"  
  
The words cut like a knife. "Got to hell." Michael seethed.  
  
Devon shrugged, "I've been there a time or two. Not a very hospitable place. But you seem to have taken up residence there."  
  
Michael turned his head to stare up at the window. The storm had passed, now the glass was steamed from the heat of the room.  
  
"If you think your suffering in some way will lessen the pain of her death you are sadly mistaken, Michael. You loved her, and she betrayed that love. There is no way to avoid the hurt. But to shut out all the others who love you, who want to help you."  
  
"I don't want the Foundation involved."  
  
"The Foundation has weathered worse problems than this. Have you taken the time to think how we felt? How worried Kitt and Bonnie…"  
  
The look in Michael's eyes stopped Devon short.  
  
"Kitt thinks I murdered Gwen." Michael said darkly, "I heard it in his voice."  
  
Silence filled the room for a long moment.  
  
"I heard it too," Devon admitted, "but nothing could be further from the truth. Kitt was confused, frightened, he was in constant fear of loosing you…not this way, God knows, but to Miss Duncan. Then he sees her, in your arms, strangled. He obeyed your command to leave because he was scared. By the time he recovered you had been taken away by ambulance, and the rest, as they say, is history."  
  
Michael stared up at the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together, the pain of Devon's words hurting more than the bullet wound.  
  
"Kitt has no idea why you are acting this way. Bonnie erased that small segment from his memory banks; he could not live with himself if he thought it was him who caused you to run."  
  
"Where is he?" Michael whispered.  
  
"At the Foundation. I came alone. I'll respect your wishes if you choose to remain here in hiding. Michael Knight, operative for The Foundation For Law and Government has been cleared of all suspicion. As far as they are concerned, you are in Barcelona on assignment, left the day before the murder. So, if you decide to return we will secret you onto the Foundation grounds and you can recover, then we will go after the real killer."  
  
Michael closed his eyes, unable to think. He couldn't put Julio and his family in any more danger, but to return…  
  
"We haven't much time, Michael," Devon urged, "we must do this under the cover of night. I have a car waiting outside. This part of your nightmare could be over, Michael, if you just let it."  
  
  
  
Michael watched the steady stream of headlights flash by them as he sat in the back seat of Devon's car. He sat beside him for moral support, and more if needed. Devon instructed the driver to find the most circuitous route back to the Foundation, just in case someone was watching. The lights lulled him into a half sleep and he remembered the moment everything seemed to fall apart. When his perfect world with Gwen began to shatter.  
  
  
  
He tried to ignore the light zap from his comlink and turned over gently laying his right arm over Gwen's bare shoulder. It must have been very early in the morning because the moonlight that was streaming into the window when they had fallen asleep was now gone, replaced by the darkest part of the night, just before dawn. Kitt zapped him again and he rolled out of bed, careful not to awaken Gwen, and headed for the bathroom.  
  
"What is it, Kitt?" he demanded after closing the door.  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you Michael, but there is something I think you should know."   
  
"What?" If this was just more of Bonnie's obsessions with Gwen…  
  
"I did some further research into Atkinson Industries."  
  
Michael's mind warred between his love for Gwen and the need to know what was really going on, because as much as he wanted to turn his back and just walk away with her, he could not. It was not his style. "What have you got, Kitt?"  
  
"Michael, as of two weeks ago, Atkinson Industries completely fazed out their production of grommets. In fact they have only been making a small amount for some of their oldest clients until the clients could find other distributors. They are now working exclusively for NASA."  
  
Michael wasn't sure what to say.  
  
"Michael," there was an odd cadence to Kitt's voice and Michael felt his stomach plunge. He could stop Kitt right now. He didn't have to listen… "Phil Rasmussen was let go from Atkinson three months ago when the company was completely restructured to accommodate the NASA contract."  
  
"Three months?" Michael whispered. He looked at the closed bathroom door, picturing Gwen was asleep in the next room.   
  
"He was given a more than reasonable severance package, considering he only worked there two years."  
  
"And Gwen…?" His mouth was so dry he could hardly get the name out.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Kitt…?"  
  
"Michael, I'm sorry…" Kitt's voice quivered, "Genevieve Duncan was hired as a file clerk four months ago. She was never a salesperson. She requested a leave of absence, that's when she bumped into you at the airport."  
  
Michael felt his knees buckle beneath him. He had to grab onto the towel rack to keep from falling. Shock soon turned to anger. She had used him, but for what?  
  
"What are you going to do?" Kitt asked, apprehensively, he was not sure how Michael would react to the news. He couldn't think of anything worse than being betrayed by someone you loved so deeply.   
  
"Get to the bottom of this, now." He growled.  
  
"Michael, please, take a moment to think first."  
  
"There's nothing to think about." He slammed the bathroom door open and turned on the overhead light. Gwen was stretched out beneath a single sheet, her face buried beneath her tangled blonde hair. She was so beautiful…he could easily push aside all the questions Kitt had filled his head with and simply disappear somewhere with her, leaving everything behind…But for the first time since he had become Michael Knight he felt the weight of the comlink on his wrist. It reminded him of who he was, of what he was. No matter how much he loved Gwen, he could not turn aside the life he had made for himself with Kitt, Devon, Bonnie and the Foundation.  
  
"Wake up!" he demanded.  
  
Gwen sat up stunned, wrapping the sheet around her. "What's wrong?" she gasped. Through sleepy eyes she saw the look on his face and he could tell she knew.  
  
"Phil Rasmussen got his pink slip from Atkinson three months ago." He said coldly.  
  
"What…?" Her sleepy look turned to confusion. "Michael…?"  
  
"Rasmussen was let go three months ago and you were never a salesperson for Atkinson's."  
  
She stared at him, her mouth quivering. "Michael…please…"  
  
"I want the truth, Gwen."  
  
Tears began to well up in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I was scared. I never meant to hurt you."  
  
"What were you and Rasmussen up to? Stealing NASA documents?"  
  
"No!" She got to her knees, pulling the bed sheet with her as she crawled closer to Michael. "I didn't know what he was doing. Michael, please try to understand, I had a dead end job at Atkinson. I barely made enough money to pay for my apartment and car insurance. I couldn't live like that anymore. Phil said if I did one thing for him he would give me ten thousand dollars. All I had to do was deliver the envelope, forget I ever saw it and go back to work for six months. After that I would have ten thousand dollars. I could live the life I always dreamed of."  
  
"And me?" Michael asked, his voice devoid of emotion.  
  
"You were never a part of it. I really did forget to set my clock ahead one hour. The moment I met you I wished to God that I had never made that deal with Phil. I tried to back out but he got angry. He threatened me and…" she reached out a trembling hand toward Michael, but he ignored it. "and you. He said you would be hurt if I didn't finish what I started."  
  
"You could have come to me, told me everything. I would have protected you."  
  
She dropped her head, letting her long hair cover her face, "I couldn't stand the thought of you looking at me the way you are right now." She sobbed. "I'm sorry, Michael. I'm so sorry."  
  
Michael's anger melted away. As hard as he tried he couldn't stay mad. He sat on the bed and drew her into his arms. "We'll figure something out," he soothed, gently brushing her hair out of her face, "we'll figure something out, together." He laid down pulling her down beside him, gently cradling her in his arms. "We'll start tomorrow morning." He kissed her gently, her lips tasting salty from her tears.  
  
"I love you." She whispered.  
  
"I know," he whispered back. "Sleep now, we'll talk tomorrow."  
  
He felt her snuggle closer and he whispered into his comlink, "lights, Kitt."  
  
The room once again was plunged into blackness. In the morning, he thought…  
  
  
  
"Michael…" Devon coxed gently, "we are here. Dr. Lambert will want to see you first, of course."  
  
Michael nodded. It was inevitable. "Does Kitt know I'm here?" he asked.  
  
Devon shook his head. "You still have your comlink turned off."  
  
Michael looked down at his left wrist laying in his lap, his comlink a simple watch at the moment. He couldn't face him, not right now. Kitt was right, but he had ignored all his warnings, had acted selfish and stupid. And worse, he had doubted Kitt's loyalty. Plunged into a nightmare at the mobile home park he had lashed at out the one person who meant the most to him. "Maybe tomorrow."  
  
  
  
Michael awoke with a start. He had laid awake most of the rest of the night listening to Gwen's even breathing, cradling her in his arms, going over everything she had said since they had first met. He vacillated between his love for her and the undeniable truth that she had lied to him, from the very beginning. But sleep finally overtook him and he was surprised that he had actually slept for two hours. It was eight o'clock and sunshine streamed in through the windows. Gwen walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders still wet from her shower.  
  
"I tried not to wake you." She smiled. There was an undeniable undercurrent of nervousness between them.   
  
"It's ok, it's late." He crawled out of bed and headed for the shower. "As soon as your ready we'll catch some breakfast and talk." He closed the door wondering if she would even be there when he got out.  
  
  
She was still there, looking beautiful as ever. She had her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail and wore no makeup. She looked like a lost child and Michael's heart sank. Whatever she had gotten herself into he was not going to let her face it alone. "Come here." He whispered.  
  
She walked across the room, hesitantly. He drew her into his arms and holding her tightly. "We'll get through this together." he promised.  
  
  
Breakfast was a cup of coffee and a dish of fruit. Neither one felt hungry. The drive to the restaurant was in complete silence. Even Kitt didn't say a word.  
  
The table was cleared and the check came before Gwen reached out and touched Michael's hand as he picked up the check. "I'm sorry," she said, her hand shaking, "I don't know what to say."  
  
"You can start by telling me everything you know about Rasmussen."  
  
She released his hand, sitting back in her chair. "He was a nice man. He used to sit with me at lunch sometimes. I told him that I wanted so much more than I was getting at Atkinson. He asked me why I didn't leave and I told him I couldn't. I couldn't afford it."  
  
"Gwen, I don't understand. You're a beautiful, intelligent woman…"  
  
Gwen smiled bitterly, "Who has a habit of sabotaging everything that is good for her. I've never worked for a company more than three years without being fired for something stupid. I knew it would only be a matter of time before I did something stupid at Atkinson. When Phil offered me ten thousand dollars I jumped at it."  
  
Michael took a deep breath. Something wasn't right. Genevieve Duncan was one of the most self possessed, intelligent women he had met in a very long time. Not an unhappy file clerk looking for any chance to get out of her dead end job. She was too put together. Her clothes, her hair, her make up, everything about her was perfect. Either she was lying or she was the best actress he had ever met. "What were you supposed to do for the ten grand?"  
  
"I arranged for a three day vacation in LA so I could learn to get around the city. That's when I met you."  
  
"By accident."  
  
"Yes! Completely by accident. I really did miss my plane."  
  
"And you came back."  
  
"That was part of the original plan. The first three days were to check out the city, the next three days were to meet with Phil and keep the envelope until I would meet him again and hand it over."  
  
"Where and when do you meet him?"  
  
"Tonight at the Silver Sky Mobil Home Park, at two A.M."  
  
"Then we'll meet him together."  
  
"No!" Gwen's face paled, "I have to go alone."  
  
"I'm not letting you go alone. Once he has that envelope in his hand he'll have no more need for you."  
  
"I don't want to involve you."  
  
"You involved me the moment you put that envelope in Kitt. I'm an accessory to what ever Rasmussen is doing."  
  
"No."  
  
"Listen to me. Phil Rasmussen is a dangerous man. He's dealing in stolen NASA documents. Your ten thousand dollars, which you'll never see, is just a drop in the bucket compared to what he can haul in with those documents."  
  
"But he warned me to come alone. He won't hurt me…but…"  
  
"He already threatened you Gwen. Now, there is no argument here, we are going together."  
  
Gwen nodded, knowing she would never win the fight.  
  
  
  
  
"Remarkable," Dr. Lambert said, rewrapping Michael's shoulder. "An old woman did this?  
  
Michael nodded. "Julio's Tia, aunt, she did everything."  
  
"Utterly amazing. I could not have done better in a fully equipped surgical unit. And she did all this with very little scarring. I saw the blood workup Kitt did. You had a massive infection. I didn't want to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I was sure there was no way you could survive an infection like that without immediate hospital care. I would love to meet this woman someday."  
  
"Perhaps you will, Ted, someday," Devon said, walking across the room to pat him gently on the shoulder, "but Michael needs his rest now."  
  
"Yes, of course," Lambert looked embarrassed, "of course. I've given you something to ease the pain, and it should help you to sleep throughout the night. I want you to stay here in the clinic for a few days. You are still running a moderately high fever and you need fluids."  
  
"One day," Michael conceded, too tired to argue at the moment, "then I'm out of here."  
  
"We'll see," Devon smiled, "we'll see. Now, you try to get some rest. You are safe here. Bonnie is in her room if you need her, and…well, you know where Kitt is if you wish to talk with him." Devon placed Michael's comlink on the bed next to his right hand. "In case you need to know what time it is."  
  
Michael watched them leave, Dr. Lambert dimming the lights as he left. His fingers touched the strap of the watch and his heart jumped. How could he face Kitt after all this? After the mobile home park?   
  
  
  
Michael cut the headlights as he approached the Silver Sky Mobile Home Park. Once an upscale semi-permanent park, it had, in its day, a recreation center, lap pool and restaurant. Now abandoned for years, one dim security light atop a telephone pole next to the main office cast dark shadows over the tall weeds surrounding the only permanent structures in the park. Time and vandals had reduced the buildings to nothing but empty shells. A twelve foot cyclone fence was erected around the pool, leaving it to the algae and mosquitoes.   
  
"Where are you supposed to meet him?" Michael asked, trying to look past the office at the lines of mobile homes, stretching in both directions like tentacles in the darkness.  
  
"Number 77." Gwen answered, holding the envelope tightly in her arms. They had not spoken a word since leaving the bungalow.  
  
"Kitt…?"  
  
"To your left, Michael."  
  
Michael swung left onto a narrow pebble stone road, "Another left here, Michael." Kitt directed him through the labyrinth of short paths and dead ends. Without Kitt's help he would never have found it in the dark. A nagging thought popped into his mind. How the hell was Gwen supposed to find number 77 if he couldn't without Kitt's help?  
  
They were beyond the feeble security light at the main entrance. The full moon above gave them only fleeting rays of light as dark storm clouds drifted by.  
  
"Anything, Kitt?"  
  
"No, Michael. I'm not picking up anyone."  
  
Gwen peered through the windows nervously, "How can you see anything out there?"  
  
He ignored her as he pulled to a stop in front of number 77. In the meager light he could see what once must have been a modest upscale double wide mobile home, now reduced to a metal shell. Tall weeds grew beneath and around it. A set of three steps listed to the right, the handrail weaved into the tangle of weeds. A metal dumpster stood a few yards away as if someone at sometime had decided to try to save the rusted hulk.  
  
"Kitt…?"  
  
"I'm sorry Michael. There doesn't appear to be anyone in the park."  
  
Michael settled back in his seat. "We'll wait." An uncomfortable silence hung between them, broken only by Kitt's hesitant voice.  
  
"Michael…?" There was a strange timber to the A.I.'s voice and Michael was instantly alert.  
  
"Yea, Kitt? What is it?"  
  
Kitt hesitated.   
  
"Kitt…?"  
  
"I have just scanned the contents of the envelope Miss Duncan is holding."   
  
Michael felt Gwen shift uncomfortably in her seat.  
  
He turned to look at her, her face illuminated in the dark red glow of Kitt's dash. "And…?"   
  
Silence.  
  
"…Kitt?"   
  
"The NASA documents have been switched."  
  
Gwen stiffened, clutching the envelope to her chest. "He's wrong! No one's touched this envelope but you and me since we got it from Phil."  
  
"Are you sure, Kitt?"  
  
At any other time the question would have been rewarded by an acerbic rebuttal, but Kitt simply said, "I'm sure, Michael."  
  
Michael stared at her, disbelief turning to anger.  
  
"Michael, he's lying. He'd do anything to keep us apart."  
  
"Kitt doesn't lie."  
  
"Listen to me, Michael," her eyes glistened in the soft red light from the dash, "these documents are worth millions. I have a buyer set up…"  
  
Michael felt the blood draining from his face. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing.  
  
"We could go away like we talked about. Just you and me…and Kitt, if he wants."  
  
His mind reeled. He listened to the words, surging in and out, like a dark hazy dream, his anger rising.  
  
"We could live the life we deserve. Think of it, lying on the beach all day, not a care in the world. It could all be ours."  
  
He had trusted her, despite all the warning signs, he had trusted her, opened his very soul to her. "Where are the real documents, Gwen?" he demanded quietly through clenched teeth, his voice as dark as his emotions.  
  
"They're in a safe place." She answered, leaning against the door, startled by his tone of voice, but wanting to persuade him still. "Michael, everything could be ours. We give Phil these phonies and tomorrow we meet with the buyer. By tomorrow night we could be…"  
  
"Give me that!" Michael snatched the envelope from Gwen's arms. "Kitt, is that mobile safe?"  
  
"Structurally it's sound, Michael. But I'm not sure what kind of insect and…"  
  
"Alright," he grabbed a flashlight from the center console and shoved it in her hand then angrily stabbed a button on the dash automatically opening the passenger door. "you stay in there. I'll handle Rasmussen, then we'll deal with this."  
  
"Michael, please…" She tried to reach a hand out to him but he shoved it away.  
  
"Get out, now." He ordered.   
  
Tears of anger and fear filled her eyes and she slowly climbed out of the car carefully making her way through the weeds to the three steps that led to the opened door of the mobile home. She looked back at him once before snapping on the flashlight and disappearing into the mobile.  
  
Slowly he backed away, stunned. He had been betrayed, used. His anger rose as he thought of how he had pushed the people who really cared about him away, in favor of her. Her every move calculated to bring them here.  
  
"Let's find Rasmussen before he finds Gwen." He hissed through clenched teeth.   
  
"Michael…" Kitt said hesitatingly, "I'm sorry."  
  
"No Kitt, I'm the one who should be sorry, for the way I've treated you."  
  
Silence filled the cabin as they slowly drove through the park, his anger seething with each mobile home Kitt scanned, dilapidated and empty.  
  
Twenty minutes went by and still no sign of anyone.  
  
"This is a wash," Michael angrily slammed his hands against the gull wing steering wheel. "Let's get back to Gwen. Maybe Rasmussen spotted us and ran."  
  
As they approached #77 Kitt scanned the mobile. "Michael…it's empty."  
  
He pulled to a stop looking through the broken windows, no sign of Gwen's flashlight. "Where the hell is she?" the venom in Michael's voice startled Kitt. "Damn it, I knew I couldn't trust her. Look, you check the perimeter of the park; I'll go in on foot. She could be hiding anywhere."  
  
"Shouldn't we stay together?"   
  
Michael punched the door open, "I want her. She set me up, Kitt. Rasmussen thinks I've got the goods. And I'll bet a years salary that he thinks I've got them stashed back at the bungalow."  
  
"But, Michael, I thought you loved her." Kitt said, confused.  
  
Michael stopped, one foot out the door. "I do, Kitt." He answered, his anger deflated for a moment by Kitt's innocent question, but his anger rose again as he remembered her in his arms, all the while planning, scheming. "It doesn't mean that I don't hate her for what she did to me. Keep in touch and keep an eye out for Rasmussen; if he finds her first she's dead."  
  
  
Michael watched Kitt back up and swing around to start a slow search of the park. The whine of his turbine engine and tires crunching over pebble stones the only sound in the dark. He looked back at the empty mobile home. How could he have been so stupid? He let his emotions rule. He knew better. He clenched and unclenched his fists. It was his fault that it had gotten this far. And, God help him, in the end he could still not turn his back on her. He still loved her. Hated her for what she did, but loved her still.  
  
Turning towards the mobile home to his left, he heard the strangled cry. Whirling around he tried to locate the sound. Did it come from behind the dumpster? He stood stone still, waiting. Was it Gwen? If she was hiding behind it why hadn't Kitt scanned her? He ducked low, every nerve on fire. Slowly he moved toward the dumpster, the sounds of his feet crunching on the pebbles deafening. He raised his comlink and pressed the button, only static. Something was interfering with the transmission.   
  
He reached the dumpster, his shoulder brushing the cold metal. If Rasmussen had found her and realized the documents were phony he would kill her without a second thought.   
He carefully made his way around the container. He froze, hearing the unmistakable sound of a shoe scraping along dirt. He took a deep silent breath to quash his rising fear. Had that strangled cry come from Gwen? Was she just startled that he had returned or had Rasmussen found her? He stopped at the edge of the dumpster and waited, listened. Not a sound to break the eerie stillness. The moon appeared from behind the clouds casting a bright glow, deepening the shadows and he caught a quick glance of the elongated shadow of two people struggling behind the dumpster.  
  
He took another deep breath willing his pounding heart to slow down, to keep his head clear. He turned the corner; Rasmussen held Gwen in a strangle hold, ready to break her neck.  
  
"Well," Rasmussen grinned, "I'm glad you could join the party, Mr. Knight. Gwen here tells me that she gave you the documents for safe keeping."  
  
Michael saw the desperate look in Gwen's eyes. "No!" she screamed. Rasmussen's arm tightened around her throat. Gwen winced, struggling to slip away. "I have them hidden," she gasped, trying to breathe, her toes barely touching the ground. "Michael doesn't know anything."  
  
"She's lying," Michael said, mustering everything he had to remain calm, to keep the fear from his voice. He took a cautionary step closer, and Rasmussen tightened his strangle hold. A gurgle sounded deep in Gwen's throat and he froze. He tried not to look at her, tried to focus on Rasmussen's eyes. "You'll get your documents." He promised. "Please, just don't hurt her."  
  
Rasmussen's grin turned to a cruel smile, "She got to you, didn't she?"  
  
Michael stood motionless, helpless. There was nothing he could do. One wrong step, one wrong word and Rasmussen would break her neck. Despite everything, he knew he loved her more than life itself.  
  
I think," Rasmussen squeezed her neck tighter, "Gwen here made a fool of both of us. Am I right kiddo?" He jerked her neck so hard that she was lifted off the ground.  
  
"No!" Michael pleaded, "I'll get you the documents. Just don't hurt her."  
  
Rasmussen shoved her against the dumpster, his gloved hand wrapped around her neck ready to snap it with the smallest provocation. With the other hand he drew out a small caliber hand gun tossing it at Michael's feet. "You didn't think" he said coldly, "that I would give this conniving bitch the real documents?" He squeezed harder and her face began to turn purple. "Pick up the gun," he ordered. Michael crouched down and grabbed the 22 millimeter pistol, never taking his eyes off Rasmussen, "squeeze the trigger," ordered, "and toss it back." Michael obeyed and tossed it in the dirt next to Rasmussen's foot. "She was just a ruse, you know. She did exactly what I thought she would do. I even set up a buyer for her."  
  
Michael saw Gwen's legs nearly buckle in disbelief.   
  
For a split second Michael's eyes met Gwen's and he saw something beyond terror, he saw a cry for forgiveness.  
  
Rasmussen yanked her back, both hands on her neck. "Say goodbye to the bitch, Knight."  
  
"No!" Michael screamed as he heard the unmistakable sound of her neck snapping.  
  
Suddenly he was plunged into a surreal world. In slow motion he saw Rasmussen release his grip and step back, letting her corkscrew toward the ground like a rag doll. He stared in stunned disbelief at her fragile body laying motionless in the moonlight. He didn't see Rasmussen standing over her, arms folded, savoring the moment. He only saw Gwen. Numb with grief, he dropped to his knees and lifted her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. With a trembling hand he gently brushed away the long blonde hair from her face, staring into her open blue eyes, dull and lifeless, at her mouth, half open in surprise.   
  
Life itself seemed to drain out of him. She was dead. And so was he.  
  
"I arranged to have someone call the police about five minutes ago, they should be on their way," Rasmussen sighed as he casually picked up the gun and slid a bullet into the chamber before pressing it against Michael's temple, "a tragic quarrel that ended in murder suicide. It happens all the time. And with your fingerprints on the gun there will be no question of who killed her."  
  
Michael was numb. He barely heard Rasmussen or felt the gun. And it didn't matter anyway. The only thing that mattered was Gwen's lifeless body in his arms.   
  
"It's funny," Rasmussen continued, "I was ready to kill her when I learned she had paired up with you, then I realized it was perfect. Who better to safeguard the phony documents than a hired cop?" He began to squeeze the trigger. Michael didn't care…  
  
The sound of Kitt's turbine engine startled Rasmussen and he lowered the gun, "We're not finished, Knight." he warned, slipping away into the darkness.  
  
Michael gently closed her unseeing eyes. She didn't deserve this. Whatever she had done, she didn't deserve this. Anger and guilt broiled up inside and he struggled to his feet, lifting Gwen gently, her broken neck hanging strangely as he stumbled backwards away from the dumpster her body draped over his arms.  
  
He didn't hear Kitt's approach. Startled by the headlights he snapped his head up, his face frozen in a look of disbelief and guilt. He had killed her. His love and denial had killed her just as if his hands were clamped around her throat.  
  
"Michael…no…!" He heard Kitt's gasp of disbelief. Even the A.I. knew he was guilty.  
  
"Get out of here," he raged, "the Foundation can't be involved."  
  
"…Why…?" Kitt asked, as he backed away, confused, the sounds of sirens cutting off his last words.   
  
  
Michael felt the watch/comlink on top of the covers and pulled it into his hand, squeezing it tightly. He needed Kitt. He needed his forgiveness. But after the past days he didn't know if he had the right to ask. Because of him, Gwen was dead, and everyone who meant anything to him was thrown into a nightmare. But Kitt was the one he hurt the deepest.  
  
His heart pounded as he depressed the button to activate the comlink, knowing that Kitt would be instantly aware that he was there.  
  
"…Michael?" Kitt's voice sounded hesitant, almost afraid.  
  
Michael couldn't answer. He couldn't face him. He had betrayed their friendship. He had nearly thrown away everything that was most precious to him for a woman he barely knew. He had hurt Kitt. He had forced Kitt to believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that he was capable of murdering out of passion and hate. Would Kitt ever really trust him again?  
  
"Michael, please, I know you're there. I'm sorry. I never should have left you there at the park, this is all my fault." The pain in Kitt's voice stabbed Michael like a knife in his gut. "Michael, please forgive me."  
  
No! Michael grabbed the comlink, "Kitt…it's not your fault, none of this is."  
  
"I left you there, alone."  
  
"You followed my orders."  
  
"Orders…" the A.I. answered with self- loathing, "I should have disobeyed."   
  
Stinging tears filled Michael's eyes. For the first time since he saw Gwen crumble to the ground, he cried. Even as he had held her in his arms the tears never came. But now the memories came flooding back: Gwen standing beside her open suitcase, its contents strewn across the terminal floor, laughing as they laid together on the beach, so happy, lost in each others world. She was so beautiful, so perfect in every way. Then meeting Rasmussen, knowing at that moment all was not as it should be, but ignoring it, ignoring Kitt. Too much in love. Too frightened to risk the truth. Then Kitt's revelation: the envelope Rasmussen gave her to carry was a phony. The tears of denial when he confronted her. And the scene he saw repeated in his mind nearly every waking moment, the look of disbelief as Rasmussen snapped her neck. He clenched the comlink tighter at the memory of Kitt, seeing him with Gwen's body, the A.I. suddenly lost and confused. Then began the downward spiral into purgatory. Kitt had obeyed him, had cut his lights and slowly backed away leaving Michael to stare into the blackness, the weight of Gwen in his arms, the guilt building. Emptiness consumed him, so deep, so heavy that he thought that he couldn't take another breath. Suddenly the darkness was destroyed by the dancing red emergency lights of a half dozen police cars. They ordered him to lay her on the ground and step back. He couldn't. He couldn't let go of her. If he did, he would lose her forever. He felt dizzy, disorientated. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards. A shot rang out and fiery hot pain exploded in his left shoulder, but still he didn't put her down. Strong arms pulled her out of his grasp and he collapsed to the ground…  
  
Michael touched his left shoulder, felt the thick bandage.   
  
"…Michael…?"  
  
"I'm here Kitt." He whispered.  
  
"Are you alright?"   
  
"No," he answered truthfully. "I don't know if I will ever be all right again."   
  
"You have been through a great deal, Michael, you need rest." Kitt's voice eased the emptiness, but didn't end it.   
  
"I think I just need time now, Kitt."  
  
There was a long silence before Kitt replied gently. "Take all the time you need. I'm here if you need me."  
  
Michael felt the drugs pulling him down, "If I need you?" he asked, feeling the comlink in his hand. He had never needed him more. "Kitt, I'll never make it through this without you."   
  
There was a soft hum, almost a sigh of relief over the comlink, "Rest now, Michael. You're home and safe."  
  
Michael nodded, closing his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would start the long road back to being Michael Knight again.  
  
  
  
Epilog  
  
  
Michael slowly made his way toward the garage, his shoulder heavily bandaged and his left arm supported in a sling. Dr. Lambert had succeeded in keeping him in bed for two days. Hampered by the shots Lambert kept injecting, Michael was only occasionally aware of Bonnie standing by his bedside or Kitt's constant vigil. But this would be the first time he came face to face with Kitt since that horrible night.   
  
As he opened the door he heard the familiar sound of Kitt's scanner and his heart jumped. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this yet.   
  
"Michael…" Kitt's driver's side door opened.  
  
Michael approached the car slowly. "Kitt…I…"  
  
"You look terrible, Michael, please sit before you fall." Michael slipped into the driver's seat, "You should never have taken such a long walk so soon. I'm sure Dr. Lambert is going to be livid."  
  
"We…I had to talk." His voice faltered. "Kitt, I don't know how to get passed this."  
  
"Passed what?"  
  
Michael reached for the steering wheel then pulled his hand back. He didn't have the right. "I betrayed our friendship." He said bitterly. "I let Gwen come between us. You tried to warn me and I ignored you. The person I trust most in my life, and I ignored you."  
  
There was a long silence.   
  
"Michael, our friendship is stronger than that. I will never fully understand the depth of your love for her, or how deeply you are grieving now, but I was never in doubt about our friendship. Bonnie explained to me how, sometimes, love can overpower a person. Can make them do things that they would not ordinarily do."  
  
"Then you can forgive me?" He asked, wrapping his fingers around the wheel.   
  
"There is nothing to forgive. We both made mistakes. But now its over and I want to get back to the way we were before Gwen came into our lives."  
  
Michael sighed deeply, letting his head fall back against the headrest, "I'm afraid that's impossible, Pal. She'll always be a part of us now. We just have to go forward."  
  
"Well said." Devon smiled as he entered the garage with Bonnie at his side. "Life goes on and so shall you both. I knew that your bond was too deep to be broken by this or anything else."  
  
"Devon." Michael struggled to get out of the car.  
  
"No, stay there my boy; I just thought you would like an update on all that has transpired since your return."  
  
Bonnie hopped onto Kitt's hood and smiled, satisfied. "I told you, Kitt, that there was nothing to worry about."  
  
"It appears that Phil Rasmussen was not as clever as he thought. Oh, and by the way, Phil Rasmussen was not his real name. He is actually Stewart Desmond. He has been stealing government secrets for years now. This is the closest the F.B.I. has been to apprehending him. In his haste to leave the mobile home park he scrapped against the sharp edge of the dumpster and conveniently left behind a blood sample. The DNA was a perfect match. The Police have officially declared that he is the prime suspect in Miss Duncan's murder."  
  
Michael's face turned dark, his voice cold, "Who ever he is, I'll find him, Devon. No matter how long it takes, I'll find him."  
  
"Revenge does not suit you well, Michael." Devon warned. "I can only hope that time will heal the pain you feel now. Rasmussen will pay. But it must be the legal way, or you will be dishonoring her memory."  
  
Bonnie slid off the hood and came around to kneel next to the open door. "We know you are hurting, Michael. But time will heal the emptiness. I know it doesn't seem possible now, but it will. If you let it."   
  
Silence filled the garage. So much had happened. So many lives had been affected. It would take time for everyone to heal.  
  
"Yes, well," Devon broke the silence, "we also discovered why you and Kitt could not communicate at the mobile park. Kitt, would you like to do the honors?"  
  
"Thank you, Devon." Kitt's right monitor blinked on. "It appears," Kitt explained, "that at one point someone was going to reopen the park."   
  
Michael grimaced at the sight of the derelict mobile home, the rusting dumpster.  
  
"They began by gutting the restaurant. Michael, when that restaurant was built lead pipes were used. They buried them all beneath the dumpster."  
  
"And that's why you couldn't see Rasmussen." Michael looked up at Devon, "Do you think he knew?"  
  
"I highly doubt it. I think it was just a fluke. One that nearly let him get away with murder."  
  
"But he's still out there ready to sell those documents to the highest bidder."  
  
"NASA has taken care of that little problem. The documents were for a design they already discarded as not workable. Who ever uses them will spend a lot of money before they realize the concept doesn't work. And," Devon smiled, "I have some more good news. Because Julio and his Aunt did so much for you we thought it only fair that we repay the favor. All Julio's medical bills for the birth of their child will be paid by the Foundation. I believe it is only fitting that we pay a life for a life."  
  
"Thank you, Devon." Michael said, taken aback by Devon's generosity.   
  
"It is the least we can do. If they had not taken you in we would not be having this conversation now. And speaking of that, Dr. Lambert is on the warpath. You were not to leave your bed. I'm sure by now he has figured where you are and will be sending out the troops."  
  
"Can you stall him for a few more minutes?"  
  
"I'll try." He offered his hand to Bonnie, "we should let these two finish their conversation."  
  
"You mean we can't wait and see the fireworks when Lambert gets here?"  
  
"No, my Dear, but I'm sure Kitt will fill us in later." He stopped and smiled back at Michael, "It's good to have you home, Michael."  
  
Michael nodded, "It's good to be home."  
  
Michael watched the door close behind them and settled into a comfortable position, suddenly exhausted.   
  
Kitt closed the door. "You need rest, Michael."  
  
"What about Dr. Frankenstein?"  
  
The windows darkened slowly, "Dr. who?"  
  
"Thanks, Kitt."  
  
"It is good to have you back, Michael."  
  
Michael nodded. As his eyes began to close he caught sight of his face in the side mirror as the window darkened, and he remembered the face he saw in the mirror in the motel room. He had been wrong then. His life as Michael Knight was not an aberration. It was a life he accepted and cherished, filled with people who truly loved him. With their help he could put his life back together again. He wondered, as he drifted off, how long it would be before Gwen stopped haunting his every thought. How long before the empty feeling in his heart subsided. Yes, she had used him, but there was no doubt in his mind that she truly loved him also.   
  
Safe inside Kitt, he slid into a deep peaceful sleep. There was plenty of time tomorrow to pick up the broken pieces. 


End file.
